CHAPTER XXIV

THE BAZAAR

WHEN at last the day fixed for the bazaar arrived, the weather proved all that the most sanguine could have anticipated. It was brilliant without being over-warm, for a delightful breeze from the sea tempered the sun's heat. The sea was beautifully blue, and broke in crisp, white-crested waves upon the sands. Such a day could not fail to tempt visitors to St. Anne's. Fortune seemed to smile upon the undertaking that had cost so many busy hours and so much anxious preparation.

Despite the brightness of the day, Juliet's spirits were somewhat dashed, when she learned that her mother had awoke that morning with so bad a headache that she feared it would be impossible for her to be present at the opening of the bazaar.

"The room is sure to be very warm and crowded," said Mrs. Tracy, "and you know that I can hardly at any time endure a close room without turning faint. I am very sorry, for I had counted on being there."

"So am I very sorry," said Juliet; "but you must not think of it, if you do not feel well enough. The bazaar will be open again to-morrow, but of course it will not be so nice on the second day. And I wanted you to see Lady Ernestine Whitehouse."

"Never mind, darling, you must tell me all about the opening. And you know I saw the decorations last evening, so I can picture the scene to myself. Now don't loiter about me and get late. Mrs. Staines particularly desired all the stall-holders to be there by twelve o'clock."

Juliet went away to get ready. Her mother had persuaded her to wear white on the occasion, and when a little later, Juliet came fully attired to bid her good-bye, Mrs. Tracy, as she surveyed her critically, was well pleased with the result of her advice. The simple white frock and large white hat became Juliet charmingly. She wore no colour save that bestowed by a lovely cluster of half-opened pink roses which she had fastened in her belt. She looked a lovely vision of youth and happiness. Her mother smiled on her, and hugged to her heart the proud belief that there would not be another girl in the room to compare with her.

"Good-bye, darling," she said. "I hope you will have a happy time, and sell lots of flowers."

As she lay back on her pillow Mrs. Tracy rejoiced to think that Juliet had so far recovered her light-heartedness. The shadow of the past had fallen from her. When Juliet entered the schoolroom, so prettily draped and decked that the scholars could hardly have recognised it for the room in which at this hour they usually sat on hard benches droning out their lessons, Mrs. Staines welcomed her with a kiss.

"How nice you look!" she said heartily. "I am so glad we decided that you should have the flower stall. In your white array, you look like a flower yourself. See, here are your young assistants, Gwen and Gladys, waiting to receive your orders."

It had been finally arranged that, instead of helping the Misses Brown, Juliet should take charge of the flower stall, which, well placed at the farther end of the room, added greatly to its picturesque appearance. Gwen and Gladys Owen, the doctor's little daughters, were to help her by carrying round "button-holes" for sale.

Juliet was well pleased with the department assigned to her. She loved flowers, and had great skill in arranging them. She meant to make her stall the most charming one in the room, attracting all comers by its beauty and perfume.

"Most of the sellers are here now," said Mrs. Staines, as she peered round the room; "everyone, indeed, except Mrs. Belsham. The train from Lytham must be late. However, her stall is all but ready, and she is bringing some girls with her to help. They are the daughters of a clergyman, so are used to this kind of thing. They were to arrive from London yesterday. It is to be hoped they will not be very tired from their journey."

"Oh, it is not such a very great journey," Juliet said.

She was not interested in what Mrs. Staines was saying. She felt no curiosity respecting the girls from London. She was absorbed in contemplating a stock of plants which had been sent in that morning for her stall, and considering how she could display them to the best advantage. After a brief deliberation, she set to work with eager energy, massing together gorgeous geraniums, snowy lilies, purple petunias, heliotrope, carnations, roses, of hues varying from deepest crimson to palest cream, with fuchsias, sweet-williams, mignonette, and the humbler products of cottage gardens. Her stall was soon aglow with colour, and when she had finished, it presented the appearance of one huge bouquet.

Wholly occupied by her task, Juliet had not observed what was going on at the other stalls. She had walked backward some paces from her stall, and was critically observing its general effect, when suddenly she turned, drawn by the subtle attraction of another's gaze, and found herself meeting the glance of Frances Hayes, who was standing beside Mrs. Belsham's stall at the distance of a few yards.

Juliet was greatly startled at seeing so unexpectedly her former schoolfellow. Her first impulse was to advance and greet her as an old friend. She made a step forward with this intent; but instantly Miss Hayes' glance became stony and contemptuous, ere she deliberately turned on her heel and presented her back to Juliet's gaze. Juliet saw her say something to a girl beside her. This girl turned and looked curiously at Juliet, and Juliet recognised her as a younger daughter of the Hayes family.

Juliet turned hot, and then cold. She went quickly behind her stall, and busied herself in setting in order the less presentable plants, which had been thrust out of sight there. Her hands were steady, her movements deliberate. She was trying to persuade herself that it did not matter, that she did not mind; striving to nerve herself to face the inevitable with indifference; but already she foresaw that the day's engagement was to yield her not pleasure, but pain.

Frances Hayes had lost no time in gaining the ear of her hostess.

"Mrs. Belsham," she said, drawing her aside, "it is that same girl."

"What same girl, my dear?" asked Mrs. Belsham, preoccupied with many small cares.

"That Miss Tracy. Do you not remember that you were speaking of her last night, and I told you of the girl of that name who used to live in our neighbourhood and behaved so disgracefully? Well, this is the very girl!"

"What, the girl who ran away with the music hall singer who afterwards committed forgery, and your mother saw them together at Dover? Oh, you cannot mean that our Miss Tracy is that girl?"

"She is indeed. I am not likely to be mistaken, since I went to school with her, though I assure you I am not proud of that fact. Of course we had nothing to say to her after she behaved in such a manner. Most people cut her, I believe, and her family soon found it desirable to leave London. The sisters took a school at Leeds. Mamma was very sorry for them, for they were quite different from Juliet—as steady as old Time. We thought that Juliet and her mother had settled somewhere not far from them, but I had no idea it was at St. Anne's."

"Well, I never!" ejaculated Mrs. Belsham. "I feel as if I could not believe it. Such a nice lady-like girl as she seems."

"Oh, she knows how to make the best of herself; she was always like that," said Frances vaguely. "And she had money left her by an uncle, so that she could do pretty much as she liked. Mamma thought it a great pity, for it only made her more vain and wilful."

So spake Frances Hayes, who, being undeniably plain, thick-set, and heavy-looking, was well secured by Nature from the temptations which had beguiled poor Juliet.

Mrs. Belsham was sorry to hear such an account of Juliet Tracy, to whom she had taken rather a liking. But the sorrow was not deep enough to lead her to keep silence on the subject. She was an ardent lover of gossip, and she easily persuaded herself that it was her duty to tell Mrs. Staines the startling facts she had learned. The effect of her news on the vicar's wife was so marked that Mrs. Belsham could not resist the temptation to seek further manifestations of the sensation it could create. She imparted the story of Juliet's past to every lady of her acquaintance in the room, taking care, however, to beg each one not to mention it. Nor were Frances Hayes and her sister more reticent, as they made the acquaintance of the young ladies present. Juliet speedily became aware of curious glances cast at her covertly, and perceived various signs of a desire to shun her company evinced by those who a little while before had worked with her as pleasant comrades.

Mrs. Staines, whenever she had occasion to address her, spoke in a constrained and official way; Mrs. Owen looked uneasy when she saw her little girls with Juliet, and kept them by herself as much as possible; the Misses Brown had not leisure even to cast a glance in Juliet's direction, much less to come and admire her stall, as they had promised to do as soon as she had finished arranging it.

As the hour at which the bazaar was to open approached, Juliet felt herself completely isolated by the other workers. No one praised the result of her efforts; no one displayed the least interest in her stall. She stood alone amidst her flowers, for Gwen and Gladys had been sent by their mother to stand near the door with their baskets of "button-holes."

The old spirit of defiance was stirring in Juliet's heart. Her face was almost as white as her frock, but her expression was one of proud and studied indifference. Only once, as she bent over her dainty bouquets, did her lips quiver and tears spring to her eyes. The emotion came with the thought of her mother.

"Oh," she said to herself, "how thankful I am that she could not come! She would have seen; she would have understood at once; and it would have hurt her so much."

Lady Ernestine Whitehouse arrived punctually to the hour. She was the young wife of a much-esteemed local magnate, Sir Richard Whitehouse of Ainsdale Priory, a fine old dwelling and estate some seven miles from St. Anne's. She was also the daughter of an earl, and, despite her low stature and quiet, simple manner, there was an unconscious dignity and impressiveness in her bearing which seemed to demonstrate her high birth. But her goodness of heart and strong, fearless character gave her a truer claim to distinction than rank could bestow.

"Noblesse oblige" might have been her motto, so truly did she obey the precept. Her benevolence, her large-hearted sympathy, her delicate tact, made her beloved by all who came in contact with her. For no good work was her aid besought in vain. She was untiring in her industry and energy, and courageous in battling for the right. Not in the neighbourhood of the Priory alone, but in the wider circle of London society she was known as a brave champion of the weak and oppressed, a dauntless assailant of the evils of society, and an ardent believer in the power of Christianity to purify and redeem every region of individual and national life.

Juliet had heard much of Lady Ernestine, and felt considerable interest in her. She had never caught more than a passing glimpse of her, and she had been looking forward to the opportunity of seeing her at the bazaar. She had prepared an exquisite little bouquet, which she meant to present to her ladyship when, on her tour of inspection, she reached the flower stall. But now this anticipated pleasure was dashed like the rest.

The room was well filled when Lady Ernestine entered it, accompanied by a party of guests who had driven with her from the Priory. In a clear, musical voice, Lady Ernestine made the briefest of speeches, declaring the bazaar open, and commending its wares to the assembled public. Then, escorted by Mrs. Staines, she passed slowly from stall to stall, making some purchase at each. Such of the stall-holders as were unknown to her ladyship, Mrs. Staines was careful to present to her, and she received each with the charming grace of manner which had largely conduced to make her the popular woman she was in society, despite what some of her associates called her "terrible fads."

Juliet's heart beat more quickly, as Lady Ernestine on her round approached the spot where she stood. Her face grew more colourless than before, and a nervous tremor seized her. But it was not Lady Ernestine who occasioned it. There seemed nothing to fear from that strong, kind face, which, without being beautiful, was exceedingly winsome. It was the cold, inflexible expression which Mrs. Staines' countenance had taken on which made Juliet tremble.

Yes, it was as she had expected. As they came up to her stall, Mrs. Staines, with curious dexterity, contrived to turn her shoulder upon Juliet, and to interpose her own person between her and Lady Ernestine, whose attention she directed to the two little girls who now came forward with their button-holes. Lady Ernestine kissed Gwen and Gladys and accepted the lovely posy they offered her. She was charmed with the children; but she presently turned to give a glance at the pretty girl who stood a little withdrawn, her eyes bent on the plants which she was nervously lifting and replacing without knowing what she did.

Though she did not raise her eyes, Juliet knew that Lady Ernestine spoke to inquiry was Mrs. Staines. Instinctively the girl divined that inquiry was being made concerning her, and as she imagined how Mrs. Staines would reply to such a query, her cheeks suddenly flamed with colour.

Whatever the words were which Mrs. Staines uttered almost in a whisper, they brought a look of perplexity to Lady Ernestine's face. Mrs. Staines would have drawn her on, but she paused, and after an observant glance at Juliet, moved deliberately to her side.

"What a lovely palm that is!" she said, in her soft, low voice. "I really must have it, for I have not one like it in my conservatory. What is the price, please?"

"Five shillings," replied Juliet.

"It is a beauty," said Lady Ernestine, as she opened her purse. "If you can put it on one side for me, I will send my servant for it presently. How very pretty your stall is! I would rather have this one than any other in the room. It must be delightful to sell flowers."

They were simple words, but uttered with a winning smile and kindly glance they came like a burst of sunshine on poor Juliet, in her gloomy, frozen mood. Whatever had been the nature of Mrs. Staines' communication, it had not made Lady Ernestine feel it impossible to speak to her. A load was lifted from her heart, and the solace of the lady's smile and gentle accents lingered there.

But Mrs. Staines felt uncomfortable as she went on her way. Lady Ernestine had not taken her hint as she had expected.

A few minutes later, Juliet, with a leap of the heart, caught sight of someone in the room whom she had certainly not expected to see there. This, it seemed, was to be a day of surprises.

Sir Richard Whitehouse had just entered the room accompanied by a tall, broad-chested, stalwart-looking clergyman. Juliet recognised in a moment the strong, rugged features of Arthur Mainprice.

Sir Richard turned to greet an acquaintance, and Mr. Mainprice stood looking curiously around him on the busy scene, with the air of one who found himself a stranger there. Suddenly his eyes lighted on Frances Hayes, and Juliet, with a throb of pain, saw him go forward smilingly to greet her. Happily, some customers now claimed Juliet's attention, and she was too busy for the next ten minutes to have time to watch Mr. Mainprice's movements.

He stood chatting with Frances Hayes for some minutes, ere he perceived that another old acquaintance was present. Frances did not see the little start he gave nor the look of pleasure that came into his eyes ere he said—

"Can I be mistaken? That is surely Miss Tracy I see over there at the flower stall!"

"Yes, it is that girl," said Frances. "Fancy our finding her here! None of the people knew anything of her history till we enlightened them."

"May I ask how you enlightened them?"

"Oh, we told them a few facts about her which made them open their eyes—how badly she behaved, and how she was talked about in our neighbourhood, and all that, you know. It was only right they should know it." The last words were uttered with some nervousness. There was a look in Mr. Mainprice's eyes which made Frances uneasy.

"Do you mean that it was kind and Christian to repeat that sad story, which she would naturally wish forgotten?" he asked, with sternness. "Was it kind to her?"

"Oh, of course she would not wish people to know it," said Frances, looking annoyed; "but I don't think it is right that she should be received here under false pretences."

"Really!" he said, raising his eyebrows. "I don't know where the false pretences are; but I am exceedingly glad to see my friend Miss Tracy again. Excuse me, I must go and speak to her."

The next moment he was by Juliet's side, greeting her with a heartiness which was intensified by his quick perception that she was being wounded and slighted by the people with whom she was associated in this Christian work. It was impossible for Juliet to hide how she was thrilled and gladdened by his warm hand-clasp and cordial greeting.

"I am so glad to see you again, Miss Tracy," he said. "I have often wished that we might meet; but I have not been to town since I came north, and I did not know that you had left London."

"We have lived at St. Anne's for more than a year," Juliet said.

"Mrs. Tracy is well, I trust? She is not here?"

"No, to-day she has one of her bad headaches; but she has been stronger on the whole since we came to St. Anne's."

"I should like to call on her one day, if I may. My sister and I are staying for a few days at the Priory. You remember my sister who lives in Paris?"

Juliet flushed deeply as she replied in the affirmative. He was vexed with himself for awakening a painful memory.

"Do you like St. Anne's?" he asked quickly. "Have you made friends here?"

"We have no friends," said Juliet, with emphasis; "but my mother and I are happy in our little home. We do not desire society."

He saw that he was intensifying her bitter emotions. Could he do nothing to comfort her?

"Have you been introduced to Lady Ernestine Whitehouse?" he asked.

"I have not," Juliet replied, with the slightest upward movement of the head. "I was not deemed worthy of that honour."

The next minute Mr. Mainprice was hastening across the room to where Lady Ernestine stood, near the door, saying a few words to Mrs. Staines ere she took her departure.

"Can you spare me five minutes?" he asked, addressing her with the confidence of a friend. "I have unexpectedly found a friend here, whom I should be glad to introduce to you."

"What! That charming girl at the flower stall?" asked Lady Ernestine, who had observed him talking with Juliet. "I shall be delighted to make her acquaintance."

As they walked up the room together, he had time to give her a hurried explanation of Juliet's miserable position. Lady Ernestine esteemed him so highly that it was enough for her that he wished to befriend this girl. Presently all eyes that cared to turn in that direction saw Lady Ernestine chatting in the pleasantest manner with the vendor of flowers.

"You must really come and see us at the Priory, Miss Tracy," she was saying. "I understand that you know Miss Mainprice. Could you come to us on Friday afternoon? We have invited a few friends to an informal garden-party, and Miss Mainprice has promised to tell us something of her work in Paris. Now don't decline till you have thought more of it," she protested, as Juliet, taken by surprise, and shrinking from the visit proposed, though conscious of the kindness which prompted the invitation, tried to falter out an excuse. "We can send a carriage for you, and I hope your mother will be well enough to accompany you. I will send her a card, trusting she will excuse the brief notice."

Juliet could only murmur her thanks. Then suddenly she remembered the bouquet, which in her disappointment, she had put out of sight. She brought it forward now, and begged Lady Ernestine to accept it.

"I wanted to give it to you, before," she said simply, "but I had not the courage."

"Am I so formidable?" asked Lady Ernestine, laughing. "How good of you to think of giving it to me! The flowers are exquisite, and those Maréchal Niel roses are my special adoration. Now mind, I expect to see you on Friday," she said, loud enough for all in the immediate neighbourhood to hear, as she shook hands with Juliet. "You must not disappoint me."

Then, accompanied by Mr. Mainprice, she walked down the room to join her husband, who was awaiting her at the door.

The selling went on merrily after her departure. Juliet had no difficulty in disposing of her flowers. She was as busy as possible for some time, but not so busy that she failed to observe a difference in the atmosphere about her. Mrs. Staines came presently to ask how she was getting on, and if she would not like someone to relieve her whilst she took a cup of tea. The other stall-holders also dropped their air of aloofness, having speedily come to the conclusion that Miss Hayes' story was probably exaggerated and perhaps malicious. Anyhow, it could not much matter what Miss Tracy did so long ago, since Lady Ernestine Whitehouse was disposed to make so much of her.

Thus the day ended for Juliet better than she could have hoped, a little while before, and she was able to return to her mother in fair spirits, though its strangely mingled experiences had left their impress on her mind.